Tom Spanbauer "The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon"

London, Penguin Random House Vintage, 2020

(First published in 1991.)

 

If you’re the devil, then it’s not me telling this story.

 

Isn’t the first sentence of this book already incredibly intriguing?

 

This time, I will start by telling you a story about how I found this book and why I decided to read it. One day months ago I was browsing the website of a small bookshop called Puänt and came across a photo of The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon and before I even clicked on it to read the summary, the cover intrigued the hell out of me. The cover design is so cool! Not to mention you can probably convince me to read anything that has the word “moon” in the title. Tell me a book has something to do with the moon and I’m sold. Not even kidding. I may be just as in love with the moon as the crazy cowboy is. Anyway, I did obviously read the summary as well and it seemed interesting, so I ended up buying it. I rarely buy books like this anymore, without even checking the rating and reviews on Goodreads first or without friends recommending it to me, which makes it all the more special, I guess. All right, back to the book itself.

The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon tells the story of a half-Indian man called Out-in-the-Shed who grows up in Idaho, in a pink whorehouse named Excellent. Shed’s mother works for the owner, Ida Richelieu, and after his mother gets killed, it is the boy who takes over her duties – at first just cleaning and doing the odd jobs, but when he’s around 12 years old, he starts working in the shed, servicing men. Hence the nickname.

 

‘(…) Only thing you got to remember is that even if you’re not having a good time, you got to act like you are. The rest comes natural.’

 

Soon after Shed leaves the only home he’s ever known in search of his roots, his identity and the meaning of his Indian name Duivichi-un-Dua. On the road he falls in love with a green-eyed cowboy Dellwood Barker who everybody thinks is half-crazy but who might end up being the sanest of them all.

 

Oh boy, where do I even start? This story is equal parts heartwrenching and heartwarming. “As bright as it is dark” claims the back cover and a part of me agrees. Although if I think back at the way this book made me feel, I’d even go as far as to say it ends up being more bright than dark. But it is all very subjective, obviously. In my opinion, despite all the pain and suffering portrayed, it is a lovely, lovely book that moved something in me I didn’t know needed moving.

Spanbauer’s novel depicts such a raw story that is so completely and utterly human. It is not a love story, but it is a love story – first and foremost about loving the family we make for ourselves. 

That being said, most of this story takes place at a brothel and the main characters are people who work and live at said establishment. So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise they basically live and breathe sex. If that offends you for some reason, then this book is definitely not for you. And, yes, it’s vulgar and lewd but it is also extremely warm and sincere. How could a book featuring rape, paedophilia and violence be heartwarming and full of tenderness, you might ask. I’m afraid you’ll have to read it to find out because I have absolutely no clue how to explain it.

The plot can definitely feel quite telenovela-ish if you think about everything that happens and how dramatic it all tends to be, yet somehow it doesn’t come off as such while reading. And I can’t say it was the most interesting book I’ve ever read, it did take me a long time to finish it and some parts dragged a little but there’s just something about this book. I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is but it’s there. And nature is a character in itself which I absolutely loved. I adore every book that gives so much meaning to nature.

The main motto that keeps popping up throughout the plot is that human beings are meant to tell stories. And life is a story we are telling ourselves. We can’t always change the narrative but we can change how we perceive the narrative, we can’t always change what happens to us but we can change how we react to it.

I’ve read reviews from people who are pissed off at the author for trying to make it seem like the horrible things happening to his characters are no big deal, for not condemning rape and paedophilia etc. But to me it felt more as if he was trying not to judge his characters, letting them deal with their suffering the best they can. Besides, this is probably a very unpopular opinion, but as a reader I kinda feel like the author thinks I’m stupid if they always paint the whole picture and present every single one of their opinions on any given matter. I have a functioning brain, I am perfectly capable of condemning actions that need to be condemned without having been told I should, thank you very much.

The more I think about this book in hindsight, the more I love it. I literally haven’t been able to get it out of my head since I started reading it and by the time I finished, I was so invested that it felt sad to say goodbye. I finished reading the book two weeks ago and pretty much not a single day has passed when I haven’t thought about it. It was a unique reading experience and a strange, strange book – unlike anything I’ve read before – that apparently left an everlasting impression on me.

 

If this novel feels like something you might want to experience, you can get it from here: https://puant.ee/e-pood/in-english/fiction/tom-spanbauer-the-man-who-fell-in-love-with-the-moon

 

Trigger warnings: strong language, racial and homophobic slur, drug use, paedophilia, sexual violence, physical violence, (possible) incest, graphic descriptions of sex (f/m, m/m)

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‘That’s just how people are,’ Ida’d say. ‘They just got to talk. You can’t stop people from talking. They talk and pretty soon you got a story, and what’s a human being without a story?’  

‘When the time comes, this is where I’m coming to die,’ Dellwood said. ‘Story goes if you live your life being true to your heart, you’ll find a place like this where you can come to when you die, and you can tell the story of your life out loud to all of nature listening. Death has got to wait until you’re done with your singing and dancing and whatever else you got to do to get your story told.’ 

 

That’s just the way Ida was. Figure that’s the way most women are, though. Sometimes there’s no room in them for you and they got to be alone.

‘(…) Besides, the moon told me to,’ he said.

‘Told you what?’ I asked.

‘About you,’ he said.

‘What’d it tell you?’ I asked.

‘… She,’ he said. ‘Moon is not an it, she’s a she.’

‘What did she tell you about me?’ I asked.

‘Don’t know yet, but it’s a humdinger,’ he said.

‘When did she tell you?’ I asked.

‘Same time she was telling you about me,’ he said. ‘Just about killed the both of us though, hasn’t she?’

‘She sure has,’ I said.

‘That’s a woman for you,’ he said.

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘that’s a woman for you.’ 

What made all this hard to say, and the reason why I didn’t say anything that day, was because I was afraid if I said all this out loud, that all this would go away. you never spoke your name out loud in front of the devil. Same way you never said what you felt right out for the fear he’d hear and would take everything away – and something would come in between. But something came in between anyway. So I might as well have spoken.